Scars

None of them are very recent,
But they are not old,
The scars on her wrists,
Tell a story, previously untold,

The red, scabbed skin,
That's been cut, scratched and burned,
Reveal a life of pain and pressure,
And lessons never fully learned,

Everyone told her her life was perfect,
But she couldn't handle the stress,
Is she satisfied the scars show,
That it was not perfect, but so much less?

Her scars make me feel helpless,
Like a friend who has failed,
I wonder what I was doing,
As her blood flowed and her skin paled,

I hope that she has learned,
And when she stopped it was really the end,
I pray that she'll have no more pain,
And that her scars will mend